Casend Hill

O CASEND HILL, I be so heavy-hearted, So lonesome-like since from my love I parted, That when the bracken on your sides is springing, And all the mating thrushes start a-singing, A kind of fear across my mind comes creeping, I feel as though I’d surely fall a-weeping!

O Casend Hill, the Spring does not forsake you, At winter’s close the sun comes back to wake you; And year by year the same sweet wind it passes, To stir the lark that’s nesting in your grasses; But no one comes to ask me how I’m faring, In all the world there’s not a soul that’s caring!